


Scars

by Goldenheartedrose



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Scars, The Reichenbach hiatus, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenheartedrose/pseuds/Goldenheartedrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m sorry,” John said as he met Sherlock’s eyes.  His fingers traced over the scars on Sherlock’s back, and Sherlock shivered, feeling horribly exposed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rehfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehfan/gifts).



It was not quite daylight when Sherlock awoke, the feeling of fingers tracing lightly all over his shoulders and back.  He was splayed out flat on his belly, only turning his head and blinking quickly in order to clear his vision.  John stared at his nearly nude form, his mouth pulled tight, and his eyes far too watery to be caused simply by sleep.

 

“I’m sorry,” John said as he met Sherlock’s eyes.  His fingers traced over the scars on Sherlock’s back, and Sherlock shivered, feeling horribly exposed.

 

“What for?” Sherlock’s voice, even groggy with sleep, could not hold back his attempt to appear aloof.

 

“For--” John swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotion down. “I don’t have a clue what you did during those two years, Sherlock.  I think I misjudged.  I know, I know in my head that it wasn’t a holiday, Sherlock, that none of it was just for laughs.  I mean, sure, maybe part of it was thrilling - the thrill of the chase, the game, you know.  But I never expected -- I never expected this, to realize that you were…” John frowned for a moment, searching for the right word.  “Tortured.  You were tortured.”

 

Sherlock resisted the urge to hide his face.  “It was controlled.”

 

“How could you possibly know that, Sherlock?”

 

“Mycroft. The scars you’re looking at - that you’re touching - were acquired during the time that Mycroft infiltrated the...you know what? It doesn’t matter. That isn’t important.”

 

“Someone hurt you.” John’s voice held a hint of suppressed anger.  “Severely.” His voice sounded choked, barely above a whisper.  “Of course it’s _important_.”

 

“John.” Sherlock’s voice was tender. “Come here.”

 

John complied, laying down on the pillow near Sherlock’s head.  He rubbed a hand over his face and turned toward Sherlock.  Sherlock leaned forward, kissing his cheek, light flutters of kisses that made John smile.

 

“Sherlock, I --”  

 

Sherlock pressed a finger to John’s lips and continued.  He moved to John’s forehead and pressed his lips firmly against the creases that relaxed under his touch.  Finally, he looked into John’s eyes and leaned down to press his lips firmly against John’s.  

 

“I am safe. You are safe.  I am not leaving you. Not like that.”

 

When Sherlock pulled back, John’s inclination was to hide his face, conceal his emotion.  He was a soldier, dammit, and all of this emotional upheaval was disconcerting.

 

“You don’t know that, Sherlock, you don’t -- we are never going to be entirely safe.  There will always be a --” John bit his lip to keep back the word that was on the tip of his tongue.

 

“A Moriarty? No.  That’s not what I meant, John.”  Sherlock picked up John’s hand, ignoring the tiny tremor there and kissed his knuckles.  “I mean I will never again leave you behind.  You will always have a place by my side.”

 

“Oh,” John sighed. His grin widened on his face, and his heart fluttered.  “Oh. Yes, that’s -- that’s good.” He wrapped an arm around Sherlock and pressed his lips against Sherlock’s.  “That’s very good.”  He grinned as Sherlock hummed in appreciation.

 

“Ah, my boys,” they heard just a few minutes later as Mary returned with coffee and biscuits.  She set the tray down as she perched on the edge of the bed.  “Worked it all out then, have you?”  Her smirk would have been annoying on anyone else’s face, but Sherlock just grinned back at her.

 

“I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about, Mrs. Watson,” Sherlock said as he pulled her down onto the bed, kissing her right above her ear.  “Thank you,” he whispered into her ear.  “Thank you for showing me what I couldn’t see.”

 

Mary’s eyes were bright and glistening when she returned his gaze and she placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

 


End file.
